


An Invite for Coffee

by Ayla221bee



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Mycroft Holmes, Casual Sex, Desk Sex, Diogenes Club, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29696169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayla221bee/pseuds/Ayla221bee
Summary: 'Mycroft had invited him for a coffee out of the blue. Greg had quickly accepted the offer, it had been over a week since they had last seen another due to their constantly changing schedules and the long hours.'
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 1
Kudos: 84





	An Invite for Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless smut that no one needed or thought that they needed. Hope that it's not too awful!

There was something about the Diogenes Club that Greg could not stand. He could not understand why anyone, Mycroft especially, would willingly spend time in the club.

He could not put his finger on why he had hated it so much. He didn’t know if it was the silence that he hated or how the club reeked pretentiousness. He disliked the wooden walls and how the regulars looked down their noses at him when he walked in the club freely in his cheap work suit or in his jeans on a few occasions, or when he accidentally talked to the staff, thanking them as they brought him mugs of coffee. 

He had been summoned into the Diogenes with a single text message from Mycroft that morning. Mycroft had invited him for a coffee out of the blue. Greg had quickly accepted the offer, it had been over a week since they had last seen another due to their constantly changing schedules and the long hours. Mycroft had been called out of the country for work hours before they were meant to see another for a ‘meeting,' the last time and Greg had happily taken the opportunity to see Mycroft again without a second thought.  


“He is just in his office, Greg,” Anthea said, barely glancing up from her mobile phone. “He told you to just yourself in.”

Her facial expression was blank but Greg could hear the smirk in her voice. It had been months since Greg could look at her in the eye after they had accidentally set off the panic alarm in Mycroft’s home. She had kept her silence towards the matter after being bribed with a generous raise from Mycroft and an extra two weeks paid holiday once she had called away from the men with guns and the helicopter that was outside Mycroft’s home. 

“How are you?” Greg asked her. “Busy day today?”

She put on her coat and placed a few bits and pieces in her handbag. “I’m going away for lunch at Mr. Holmes’s instance. I’ve cleared Mr. Holmes’s schedule, so the two of you won’t be interrupted, He’s got a meeting later on but you two won’t need to rush,” she smirked. 

“Enjoy your lunch,” Greg said, walking towards the door and knocking. 

“I will,” she smirked. “I just thought that I would let you know that there is a panic alarm under the desk, bottom right-hand corner. I would recommend that you avoid it, I would hate to have to rush over here before I get the appetizer. The helicopter is getting repaired.”

“I’ll try my best,” Greg said. “Thanks for the heads up about the button.”

She gave him a smile before she made her way to the door, her soft click of her feels echoed on the polished floor. Mycroft opened up the door and quickly invited him into the office without a word, quickly pushing him against the wall and kissing him. 

“I thought that we would be having a coffee at least,” Greg gasped between kisses. 

“Are you complaining?” Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow, making Greg shake his head vigorously in response. 

He pulled away to lock the wooden door with a loud click. The real world suddenly didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was the two of them in this office for these few precious moments. It was an escape from reality and a shelter from the real world when the two of them were together. 

He pushed Mycroft against the wooden wall and kissed him. He felt a soft exhale of breath against his lips as Mycroft’s thighs hit the wall. He felt as if he was twenty years younger as he and Mycroft kissed. They were like teenagers unable to keep their hands off another when their worlds did collide with another, small encounters here and there that sustained Greg throughout the week until he could possibly get something more from another. 

His fingers tugged at the short hair on the back of Mycroft’s head as he kissed him. Mycroft’s hands were already tugging at his clothing, causing Greg to remove his coat and throw it to the floor without a care. 

“Do you have any supplies ?” Greg asked, breathlessly. 

  
“Desk drawer,” Mycroft uttered, tugging at Greg’s belt. “I wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened the last time that you were here for a meeting.”

“Good,” Greg nodded before he kissed Mycroft once more, “ means that we don’t have to make a quick run to my flat. I don’t think that I can wait much, not after those texts that sent me. You don’t know what it was like to try and do reports after those text messages, impossible.”

  
“Was it?” Mycroft asked innocently but Greg could hear the smirk in his voice. “Consider it revenge for those pictures you sent me the other day, the ones with you on the leather jacket and the motorcycle. Not to mention those scandalous messages you sent me as well, I had to excuse myself at a meeting because of you and my paperwork has been neglected.” 

“Christ,” Greg groaned out, suddenly feeling unable to wait any longer. He kissed Mycroft messily, practically throwing himself on Mycroft with such a force that they could almost merge into another. 

  
He fought with Mycroft’s suit jacket and threw it on the floor and battled with his trousers braces, working his hand inside, causing Mycroft to groan out loud, covering his mouth with his hand despite the office being soundproof. The sounds that he made were delicious. The novelty encouraging them out of Mycroft never got old no matter how many times they had done this. 

He looked over at the desk, a wicked smile came on his face. There were piles of paperwork that were stacked high on the antique desk and Greg had the urge to scatter them around. He had been thinking about this since the last time they were in the office, the thoughts were filthy and had followed him into the shower. 

  
He almost hated that he had fallen under Mycroft Holmes's spell, no one had been able to drive him that crazy as he did. He couldn’t imagine how he had managed in life without the man in his life or why he had even decided to marry and try to fix things with his ex-wife so many times when he could have been with Mycroft years ago even if their encounters were secretive and hidden, safe from the outside world and reality. 

He pressed kisses to Mycroft’s neck and throat, their hips rocking into another trying to get some fiction. Mycroft looked at him with half-hooded eyes, already a state with his mused hair and his pink cheeks, looking disheveled. He couldn’t believe that a posh and powerful like Mycroft Holmes, with his smart suits and fancy office, could look wrecked just from a hand job, all excited like a teenager. 

“What do you want?” Mycroft breathed out. “I’m all yours.”

“You on the desk,” Greg almost growled out. “Me having my way with you on that antique desk. I want it to be impossible for you to even look at that desk without getting hard.”

Mycroft moaned at that idea, fishing out the condom and the bottle of lube that was hidden in the desk drawer in a hollowed-out dictionary to avoid detection. He started to systematically clear away the paperwork and the files and placed them on the sideboard and the desk chair, looking flustered as he did so. 

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning,” he mumbled as an excuse. “As much as I want you to just throw these to the floor and have me now, I don’t want to have spent time organizing them later on .”

Greg nodded and helped him clear away the files on the desk and pushed away the desk chair to stop any sheets of paper flying off the pile. He pressed Mycroft against the desk without warning, kissing him roughly before he flipped him around on the desk, propping himself on his elbows. 

Greg admired the sight of Mycroft laid out of the desk once he had tugged his trousers and his underwear down, spending a considerable amount of time admiring his arse as he tried to open up the lube. Mycroft looked over his shoulder at him, an impatient expression on his face and a raised eyebrow that asked Greg: ‘ _ Are you going to get on with it?’ _

The look was absolutely filthy and heat ran down Greg’s middle, feeling himself get impossibly harder than he thought was even possible. A soft thud momentarily distracted Greg from working his fingers into Mycroft and opening up. He looked up and realised that Mycroft had turned down the framed photograph of the Queen that he kept on his desk.

“Greg,” Mycroft whined out pathetically as Greg stopped for a moment. “I need you...get on with it.”

“Ever the romantic with you ordering me about,” Greg smirked, pulling down his trousers and slipping on the condom, half-heartedly throwing on the wrapper into the bin under Mycroft’s desk. “Need to do my duty for the country, I guess.” 

Mycroft let out a breathless laugh, stopping once Greg had lined himself up, grabbing onto Mycroft’s waist hard enough to leave bruises. The only marks that he was allowed to leave, evidence of their filthy secret that Mycroft loved to wear. He gripped onto the desk with white knuckles, giving Greg a small nod, encouraging Greg to push inside him with a groan. 

It was a dance that they knew well. He knew exactly what Mycroft liked and what he needed. The two knew another’s bodies well in the years since they had these encounters. Mycroft let out a delicious moan and tried to utter his name as he pushed himself in deep and felt encased in that amazing warmth, it had been too long since they had done this. 

“Move,” Mycroft ordered out with a half-hearted glare. “I’m needing you to move. I need to feel...ah.”

  
Greg smirked as he cut him off with a well-timed thrust to Mycroft’s prostate. He tried to keep up a steady rhythm that ended up off-beat no matter how much he tried, there was something about being ordered around by Mycroft that did something to him in these encounters, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to last too long. 

  
He drove his hips into Mycroft, knowing what the younger man needed, taking pleasure from his noises that he let out. He tried to muffle them with his arm but they still managed to escape, becoming more demanding and high pitched once Greg had moved in the way that he needed it the most. 

He wouldn’t have ever believed that Mycroft Holmes would have liked it rough first. He was Mycroft's piece, after all, it worked out fine for Greg as he always liked posh boys. 

Mycroft arched from the antique desk, his hand reaching for his cock and starting to stoke it. Greg batted it away and replaced it with his own, toying with Mycroft’s earlobe with his teeth. “Fuck, you are gorgeous,” Greg breathed out.

“Greg-” Mycroft moaned out, his voice tight and breathless. He tried to speak but was only able to produce single-syllable words. He was close. It was the only time that Mycroft had got to this state.

“Come for me,” he ordered his hand around Mycroft’s hand faster with his movements to encourage the orgasm out of him. He could see the handprints on Mycroft’s desk from where he had tried to hold on for dear life as he drove into him hard and rough. 

Mycroft’s orgasm took him suddenly and without much warning. He let out a muffled moan and sunk onto the desk, a warmth covering Greg’s hand. Greg stroked him through the aftershocks, pressing kisses to his shoulder and his neck, helping to ground him., neglecting his own release. 

Mycroft pulled out of him and moved off the desk, flipping their positions so that Greg was pressed against the desk. He sunk to his knees and with a filthy smile, took Greg’s cock in his mouth. Greg’s hand gently rested at the back of his head, not tugging his hair or pushing him, grateful to have the most powerful man in the country and one that he adored, almost worshiping him. He often wondered how Mycroft learned to do that. He believed that it was to be expected, he was rather talented when it came to anything that he turned his hand to. 

“Mycroft,” he uttered out, warming the other man. 

Mycroft smirked at him around his cock, swallowing him down as Greg’s orgasm washed over him. 

He stood up and pulled up his trousers and adjusted his tie. He somehow managed to look as presentable and almost ready to meet the Prime Minister despite looking utterly wrecked moments ago. He handed Greg a handkerchief and kissed him before he poured the two of them a glass of scotch.

“I’m glad that we didn’t set off the panic alarm, the one under your desk, ” Greg said, cleaning his hand and tucking himself into his trousers. “Didn’t want to have forty men with machine guns trying to break in thinking that you are in danger.”

Mycroft handed him a glass and sipped it on his own. “I had it disabled weeks ago,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You had been planning this, you bastard,” Greg exclaimed, enjoying the noise of Mycroft’s chuckle. “You have. I knew it!” 

“I did not want a repeat of the last time we were in my home. It’s why we have been going to your flat.”

“And that time in the car,” Greg smirked, throwing down the scotch.

“You are meant to sip it,” Mycroft said wrinkling his nose. 

  
“Why don’t you bring a bottle over to my flat tonight,” Greg said, putting on his coat. “I can make that apple crumble that you really like and we can carry on from earlier or just have a night on the sofa. I should let you get on with the meeting though.”

He hesitated for a moment, expecting Mycroft to say something. He never did. He wondered if he should be the one to do it, Mycroft was unlikely to go so first. He knew that it was impossible to go around shagging Mycroft the way he did and have him around his flat, making him pudding without feeling at least a little bit in love with him. He would have said something to him eventually. 

“I would love that,” Mycroft said, suddenly rather awkward as if he could read Greg's mind. “I can just drop by when I’m ready with the scotch as well.” 

He kissed Mycroft and walked to the door whistling to himself, a grin on his face. He hesitated for a moment before he left, turning around to Mycroft. “Hey,” he said. “I really do like you and I think that you feel the same about me as well.”

He suddenly felt like a teenager again with his insecurity. He looked over at Mycroft, who nodded at what he just said, considering it quietly.

“I like you too.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
